This McEwan novel, from 1987, tells the story of a successful children’s author whose own three-year-old was kidnapped from his cart in a grocery store. He hadn’t walked away. His back was turned to face the register. So, grief and loss and coping. Over the next three years, his wife leaves and moves to the country. His closest friend regresses to childhood in what we later understand to be a manifestation of bi-polar disorder. His parents are in declining health.
This book is less about plot, or even about character, than it is a study of the theme that is Time. Complete with a physicist’s theorizing on the subject.
The ending is extremely predictable, but satisfying. I liked it better than Amsterdam, but not nearly as much as Saturday.